


maybe you're the reason

by orphan_account



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Documentary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Now, when he tells Richard he loves him, with the sun in his eyes, that familiar feeling bubbles in his chest and throat, the one that always comes up around Richard.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	maybe you're the reason

Jared does not hesitate before saying, "I love you." 

He sees no point in holding it back. Of all the lessons life has taught him, this is undoubtedly the most important. Holding things back only ever ends in wishing he hadn't. In wishing he'd said it sooner. And he doesn't like to dwell on his past, nor does he like to hope too hard for the future, but the present exists. 

The present moment, right now, where he knows he loves Richard. 

He thinks it's important to be generous with the words. He knows firsthand how important it is to hear them. 

And Richard, he thinks, is getting used to hearing the words from Jared. He no longer freezes at the sound of them on Jared's tongue. 

Once, he even said it back, and that had filled Jared with such an overwhelming sense of feeling wanted that he cried. Jared can't remember feeling wanted ever before in his life. He had become so used to making himself _needed_ to feel any sense of belonging. 

He remembers being afraid of losing Richard once they killed Pied Piper. Because if Richard did not need his help with Pied Piper's business, what place did he have in Richard's life?

They sit together now, shoulders a millimeter apart. The California sun beats down unforgiving. Jared applied sunscreen before leaving his house, but he may end up sunburnt anyway. 

Sitting on the Stanford campus makes him nostalgic. The buildings look foreign compared to Vassar's, and the Hudson Valley's climate was more merciful. But something about fresh air, young adults with backpacks slung over shoulders, and the smell of a well-maintained lawn bring him back to that time in his life. Where it all started. 

Though he supposes it really all started on that fateful day at Hooli. 

Now, when he tells Richard he loves him, with the sun in his eyes, that familiar feeling bubbles in his chest and throat, the one that always comes up around Richard.

Richard says, "Thanks, Jared. I'll remember that when I die alone." 

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Jared says.

Richard sighs. "Oh, come on. I'm not like you, Jared." 

Jared tilts his head. Asks, "What do you mean?"

Richard bites his lip and looks away. He only speaks after Jared shifts, needing to give his eyes a break from the sun. 

"I don't know how to talk to most people. Let alone— let alone that. I mean, you can probably count on your fingers the number of dates I've been on the last—" he pauses "— sixteen years." 

"I suppose it isn't the most typical occurrence," Jared concedes, frowning. "But, Richard, that doesn't mean you're going to die alone. Besides, dates don't always mean anything more than just that. I mean, look at me." 

Richard quirks an eyebrow upward. "Yes, Jared. Look at you. Somehow you look the exact same as when we met sixteen years ago." He lets out a huffed breath. "This guy still fucks." 

"Right," says Jared, "Yes, but— but how many serious relationships have I been in? In all the time you've known me." 

The answer, they both know, is zero. 

Richard blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. He finally says, "Okay, but that— that's different." 

Jared shrugs. "Not really."

"So then," Richard says, "how come you haven't— You get so many dates. Why haven't you, y'know—" He waves a hand. "— settled down?"

There are plenty of reasons for that. He thinks Richard must already be aware of most of them. "Well," he says, "there's my past for one. Not many people look at me in the same way after learning about— parts of it." 

Richard, he thinks, is one of the few exceptions to this rule. One of the few people who hasn't suddenly started treating Jared like he's made of glass after learning some of the dark details. In fact, he can count on one hand the people for whom that's true. 

"And then," he continues, "there's, well, me. My tendencies to… _cling_. A lot of people find that to be too much to handle." 

Richard lets out a small laugh at this. The sound is beautiful. Deserving of worship. 

He says, "You did once track me down halfway across the world and pretend it was a coincidence. And then again. And again. And all the way to the flight back to San Francisco." 

Jared tugs at the collar of his shirt, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, that's what I mean. But if you had asked me to go away and leave you alone, I would have." 

"I wouldn't have asked," Richard says. "It was a little weird, but— but you're a little weird, and I liked having you— there— with me." He pauses, licks his lips, then adds, "If you asked to come in the first place, I would have said yes, you know."

No, he did not know. Back then, Jared had been so afraid that Richard would forget his existence entirely by the time he got back to the States. And Jared has long since given up pretending it was all a coincidence. Now, in hindsight, he knows that anyone else would have accused him of being a stalker. Richard had accepted it. Had accepted him. 

This revelation overwhelms the emotions brewing inside Jared. "I'm not really used to my presence being wanted," he admits, using his fingertips to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes. Richard is either too kind or too awkward to mention anything about it. Jared thinks it's probably both.

Richard taps his fingers against the arm of the bench. He says, "I'm sorry. I was such an asshole sometimes. Back then. To you." 

Jared opens his mouth to say. _Don't worry about it. All is forgiven._

But Richard says, "I love you, too. You know, I don't— I'm not good at— at saying it." 

Now there is no chance of hiding his emotions. He knows Richard feels uncomfortable around it, so he blinks rapidly to try to stem the flow of the tears. Usually, he doesn't mind crying. He knows that having such strong emotions is nothing to be ashamed of. 

He could have easily come out of his previous life cynical, stoic, and dead inside. Instead, everything always makes him feel so alive. So intensely alive. 

And Richard makes him feel everything so much more than anyone else he's ever met. He has never loved anyone so much. Could never love anyone else so much. 

Perhaps that's another answer to Richard's question. He hasn't settled down because Richard is his Mr. Darcy, and he is Lizzie Bennet, unwilling to settle for anything less than true love. 

#

Richard's house is small. A modest one-floor, two-bedroom place in Redwood City. It's close enough to the Catholic Church that the hourly bell tolls can be heard from the yard. Jared loves the house, for all its faults, and would live here with Richard in a heartbeat. Richard tolerates it.

Jared insists on making dinner. He knows that Richard knows some of the basics of cooking. Learned only because Jared insisted on teaching him one weekend when they were in their thirties and suddenly spending much less time together. Richard would survive on take-out, frozen microwave meals, and bowls of plain spaghetti for the rest of his life happily enough. Jared, though, worries about Richard's health always. 

So he cooks.

After dinner, they're sitting in comfortable silence on the couch in Richard's small living room. Richard sips an IPA. Jared sips water because he has to drive home at some point.

Jared breaks the silence. He asks, "What if we died together?" 

Richard chokes on his beer and then wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallows, blinks, and finally meets Jared's eye. "What?" 

Jared waits. He blinks and tilts his head, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. When Richard does not recall their conversation from two weeks prior, Jared reminds him, "You were worried about dying alone." 

"Oh— Jesus, fuck— Jared. That doesn't mean— What is this? Like— like some kind of— suicide pact? Because I'm not interested." 

"No," Jared says, "I think you misunderstood me." 

"Then what?" 

Jared swallows. Carefully trains his eyes on Richard's face. "Why not us?" he asks. He holds his breath. 

Richard laughs for a long minute, stopping abruptly when he meets Jared's gaze. "You're serious?" 

Jared shakes his head. Squeezes his hands together in his lap. Perhaps this was a mistake. "Never mind," he says, "how silly of me." 

"Yeah, seriously, Jared," Richard says. Grinning, amused, once again. Which, Jared supposes, is not the worst possible outcome. "That's about as outlandish as when you offered to scalp Gavin Belson or— or— What was it? Kill him with knives?" 

Jared does not say that he would have done that, too. 

"I mean," Richard continues, "you don't really want that." 

"Richard," Jared replies, "I'd be more than happy and honored to—" 

Richard cuts him off. "Right, I get that. Well, actually, I don't. But, y'know— you're you, and I know you, so. And you don't love me. Well, I mean, you say you love me all the time. And I know you do. But like, as friends, right? It's not like— Jared, you're not _in love with_ me." 

To this, Jared says nothing. 

Half of him wants to correct Richard. To say that he is in love. The other half of him wants to play along. Laugh it off. A survival instinct, perhaps. Risk losing Richard, or risk nothing changing. Which is worse in the end? 

But he takes too long to decide. Richard looks at him the way he used to look at whiteboards in the Pied Piper office at the moment he finished solving a problem. 

"Jared," he says, carefully, "are you in love with me?"

Jared believes in honesty. He believes in holding nothing back. Richard is looking at him with furrowed brows and the eyes of someone seeking the truth. And Richard, just two weeks ago, for the second time said he loved Jared, too. As friends, apparently. Jared sees that now. But he has to believe that that is enough that the truth won't destroy their friendship. 

So, he says, "Yes." 

Richard does not say anything. He looks at Jared, and then away from Jared, and then back to Jared, and away again. He stands abruptly. Runs his hands through his hair. He mumbles under his breath as he paces in front of the couch.

"Maybe I should go," Jared says, standing, heart hammering in his chest.

Richard pauses. Looks at him. Does not tell him to stay. 

"I don't want this to change things between us," Jared says, "I just— We can pretend this never happened, right?" 

Richard stares at him, saying nothing, and the silence is the worst part. He thinks, _Please do not abandon me, too._ He says, "I'll see you around, Richard." 

Jared reaches for the doorknob, ready to leave and not ready to leave at the same time. Relief soothes his heart just a fraction when Richard says, "Wait." 

Richard steps forward, then stops abruptly and takes a single step backward, keeping an uncomfortable amount of distance between them. It takes him a long time to say anything. Jared can see the inner conflict playing out in Richard's eyes. He wants to know what's taking place on the battleground of Richard's mind.

But he only says, "Drive safe."

#

Jared has heard in therapy that he is allowed to feel his emotions. He is allowed to feel them so that he can process them and then move on. So he cries. 

It helps. He remains heartsore for the rest of the week, but he thinks he's on the mend. Or at least on the way to being on the mend. It helps that his job is keeping him busy and distracted. Too distracted to spend too much time thinking about Richard. 

Eventually, he'll have to face himself. Start disentangling his friendship with Richard from his feelings for Richard.

Then Richard shows up at his door. Jared finds himself back at square one. His chest, his throat, his stomach all blooming in unison. Mr. Darcy has come calling. Except Jared is not Lizzie Bennet. 

"Richard," he says, voice high. He coughs. Tries to force his usual, casual vocal range on the question. "What are you doing here?" 

Richard licks his lips. Does not look up at Jared's face. He is staring rather intently at Jared's chest. "I haven't heard from you all week," he says, "I was— Fuck— Jared, I just—" He pauses. Breathes. "Can I come in?" 

Because he cannot say no, and because he does not want to say no, he nods and steps backward. Richard enters his condo looking everywhere but at Jared. It's maddening. What does Richard think will happen? Does he believe Jared will attack him? 

Jared closes the door, even as he can feel his temper crawling upward. He does not want to lose it, but if Richard continues not looking at him, he may not be able to help it. Staying aware of it helps, he thinks. If he can see it coming, he can stop it before it gets too bad. His therapist would be proud of him for this self-awareness. 

Finally, Richard speaks. "I was— I was worried about you."

"You could have called or texted," Jared replies. 

Richard licks his lips, blinks. "I didn't know what to say."

His anger is gone as quickly as it arrived. Richard was worried. He is here because he was worried. Because he cares. Something he's always said he's never been good at showing, but right now he's trying. He's trying _for Jared_ because he really does love Jared. As a friend.

"You didn't know what to say," Jared repeats. He tilts his head. "So you came all the way here?" 

"I thought I— I figured I—" He shrugs. "I thought I'd figure it out on the way over, but—"

Richard's anxious nerves have always had this tendril-like quality. They seep out of him, touching everything in their reach. 

Jared takes a deep breath. "Well," he says, "as you can see, there was no— you had no reason to be worried." He motions up-and-down at his body. "I'm fine." 

"But you didn't— I mean, I haven't heard from you. You usually send me like at least two pictures of birds a week. And like fifty texts."

Jared blinks. "I was giving you space." 

He was giving himself space, too. Much needed space. For this is precisely what he was worried about. Here Richard is, and Jared is pulled right back in. To think that just this morning, he felt perhaps he was on the road to recovery. 

No, it turns out he is still just as in love with Richard as he was a week ago. Perhaps even more so. 

Richard paces in front of him. "I should have— I should have figured out how to—"

Jared says, "Richard, what's wrong?" 

Richard takes a deep breath, no doubt trying to calm himself. Jared watches him. He knows it's best to be patient in this scenario. All he wants to do is reach out, touch his friend on the shoulder, let him know it will be okay. But he wonders whether his touches would be welcome now. It took _years_ for Richard to let Jared hug him for real. And Jared's selfish feelings have complicated even that. So he forces his arms to stay by his sides. 

"I've been thinking about it," Richard says at last. "What you— what you said. And you— your question." 

"My question?" Jared asks. 

"Yeah, uh— Why not— You asked, 'Why not us?'"

Jared takes a deep breath. "Richard, it's fine. I don't— I never expected you to feel the same. And I'm going to be honest with you. I need time to get over my feelings. But once I do, we can pretend that I never said anything at all and go back to being friends." 

"No," Richard says, forcefully. He meets Jared's eye for a split second, then looks back toward his feet. "I don't want to— to pretend you never said it and I don't— Look, Jared, I—" He stops and exhales audibly. 

He takes a few paces forward, looks up at Jared. He does not look away this time. "I don't want to hurt you," he says. "That's the only answer I came up with. To your question. What if— what if we try this and I— What if I don't— What if I hurt you?" 

Jared shrugs and licks his lips. His heart is in his throat, and he doesn't know how he gets the words out. "Worse things have happened to me," he says, which they both know. "Anyway, you could hurt me, and I'd still—" 

"I don't want to be a bad thing that happened to you," Richard says, frowning, looking back down at Jared's chest. And his hands are on Jared's forearms. His fingers carefully tracing patterns into the sleeves of Jared's shirt. 

"Well," Jared says, "What if— what if we try it, and it's the best thing that happened to either of us?" 

Richard's calloused fingers have made their way to the backs of Jared's hands, charting paths from his wrists to his knuckles to his fingers and then in reverse. Richard is looking at him again. He cannot breathe, afraid any movement will wake him up from this dream. 

Except, it's not a dream. Jared's real dreams are only ever nightmares.

Jared leans down. He curses his height for making this awkward. But Richard's lips converge with his, and it waters his blooming heart, rescuing him from the drought.

**Author's Note:**

> title song: [maybe you're the reason - the japanese house](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEzYD4ZielY)
> 
> * * *
> 
> this is an entirely self-indulgent piece because there are not nearly enough post-documentary jarrich fics out there to feed my hunger for them. 
> 
> also i have literally written this three times from scratch because i didn't like the first two attempts, and honestly i'm not 100% confident that this version is even good enough to post but. not to be that bitch but kudos + comments appreciated so i don't feel like this was a waste of my time lmao.


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